The Distance
by ariel2me
Summary: AU where Ned died at Tower of Joy, and to ensure the loyalty of the North, Robert ordered Stannis to marry Catelyn and appointed him Lord Protector of the North until Robb comes of age. Chapter 3: Davos makes an appearance
1. Chapter 1

The men in her life had always made her wait. "Look out for me, little Cat. I will be back," her father had promised. "I will be back soon, my lady, and we will be wed," Brandon had pledged. "We will be reunited at Winterfell soon," Ned had assured her, in his last letter.

Her father was the only one who had kept his words. Not Brandon, not even Ned. Catelyn reproached herself severely for that disloyal and unworthy thought. _Gods be good, Brandon and Ned would have come back if they could._

She lit candles and prayed for both of them, and for their sister and father too. She prayed for Benjen Stark as well, the last of that family now.

_No, not the last, my Robb is a Stark too._

She could not wait for uncle and nephew to finally meet.

_And I am Lady Stark._

At least for a little while longer. Until -

_"Why not Benjen?" _Catelyn had asked her father._ "He is a Stark. Surely that would be more fitting."_

"_He's only a boy_," her father's voice echoed in her head. "_King Robert needs a strong Lord Protector, until Robb comes of age and can rule Winterfell and the North on his own._"

"Cat. Sweetling." It was her father's voice, but not in her head this time. How long had he been there? Catelyn had not noticed him walking in. The sept was empty but for the two of them.

"Are you praying for guidance?" Her father asked, his hand resting on her shoulder. She longed to rest her head on _his_ shoulder, to lay down her fears and her worries for a moment, just a moment. But her father looked weary, and years older than he did at the start of the war. The war had taken its toll on Hoster Tully.

"I'm praying for Ned and his family," she replied. "And … for courage," she continued, unable to meet her father's gaze.

He raised up her chin gently, to look her in the eyes. "You have never lacked courage, my child. Never."

Catelyn smiled gratefully. Yet deep down she wondered; she really wondered. She had always done her duty, true, but was there courage in that?

"What is worrying you, sweetling? Our journey tomorrow?" Hoster Tully was going to King's Landing with his two daughters and his grandson. Lysa would be reuniting with her lord husband, and Catelyn was to meet the man who would be her new husband.

She chose her next words carefully. "We would be two outsiders, two southerners in Winterfell."

"Aye, aye," her father nodded.

"Ned never had the chance to bring his bride home. They have never seen me as Lady Stark, and yet I will be coming to Winterfell with my new husband, the southerner who will rule Winterfell until Robb comes of age." She hesitated. "Wouldn't it be better for the Lord Protector to be a man of the North? The northmen might take to that more readily, Father."

Her father smiled, a broad and proud smile. "Sharp and astute as always, Cat. That's what I told Jon Arryn as well."

She waited for her father to continue, which he did with a frown on his face. "Jon made some good points in opposition to that. The main difficulty according to Jon is, which northman? Which of the lords of the north, and from which House? It will end up causing dissension and envy amongst various Houses in the North. Better to have a complete outsider altogether, someone with no power base of his own in the North, someone who will not cause trouble for Robb later when it's finally time for him to give up the rein to Robb."

_Someone whose loyalty to the king is assured_, Catelyn added silently. Who better than the king's own brother?

"You will learn the way of the North, I'm sure. Both of you," her father said, with a confidence she did not really share. "This is all for Robb's sake, Cat. Remember that."

"I know, Father," she replied gently. She had always done her duty to her father, now she would do her duty to her son as well. That night, she fell asleep sitting on the chair next to Robb's crib.

_He's ours, Ned. Mine and yours. We made him, together, that first night. _She dreamt of telling her husband this, but the somber, solemn stranger she had never really known disappeared into the mist, and then it was Brandon's laughter she heard. She ran after them both, frantic, but never caught up with either. Lysa's hand shaking her shoulder vigorously finally woke Catelyn.

"We are leaving," her sister said, her voice shaky. Lysa had been full of excitement about finally seeing King's Landing at first, but as the day of their departure neared, her excitement had seemed to cool, even souring. Catelyn thought she knew why, but she did not know how to broach the subject with her sister. Lysa had grown more guarded and more reticent, even with Catelyn, since her wedding to Jon Arryn. And sadder. Infinitely sadder. Her laughter rang so seldom at Riverrun these days, Catelyn had almost forgotten the sound of it.

It was Lord Arryn who greeted them when they arrived at King's Landing, with a tall, gaunt stranger standing next to him. The stranger's eyes - deep blue pools carved into a face so fleshless and cheeks so hollow it looked like a death mask instead of the face of a living man - were studying each of the Tullys intently, as if he was trying to memorize not only their features, but also their entire reason for _being_. Even Robb, sleeping soundly and peacefully in Catelyn's arms, did not escape his intent scrutiny.

"This is Stannis Baratheon, Lord Tully. King Robert's younger brother," Jon Arryn made the introduction.

"Hoster, please. We are family now, Jon," Hoster Tully said to the son-in-law twenty years older than himself.

"My lord husband," Lysa curtsied, and blushed. Jon Arryn's face reddened as well, as if he had only just remembered how young the woman he had married was. "My lady," he said awkwardly, and then was at a loss for words. It was Stannis who took charge, telling them of their accommodation.

Catelyn panicked. "Would it be possible for me to stay with my sister at Tower of the Hand instead?" She asked, directing her plea to Lord Arryn.

Stannis frowned, and replied before Jon Arryn could. "The king has commanded that the bride and the bride's lord father shall be housed inside Maegor's Holdfast until the wedding," he said.

_The king. The bride. The wedding_. He said those words as if they held no personal connection to him whatsoever. Never mind that "the king" was his brother, "the bride" was the woman he would soon wed, and "the wedding" was his own.

Jon Arryn interjected swiftly. "There's no harm in it. Lysa will need help settling in, I'm sure Robert will understand." And so the matter was settled.

"He is so very plain," Lysa whispered to Catelyn later, as they toured Lysa's new home. "Stannis Baratheon."

_This is your home, Lysa. You are the mistress here, Lady Arryn. Why are you whispering? _Catelyn did not say this to her sister however, for fear of hurting her feelings.

"I hadn't noticed," she said instead. Truly, she had not. She was much older now, in experience if not in years, compared to that childish girl who had felt a slight disappointment at the sight of Brandon's younger brother. Ned Stark was not the younger version of his dead brother that Catelyn had expected; he was shorter, plainer, more somber, with none of Brandon's mirth and glee. Or rage.

_But Ned was a good man. And he would have been a good husband and a good father, if Arthur Dayne's sword had not cut him down before his time._

"They are saying it is a punishment, for letting the Targaryen prince and princess escape from Dragonstone," Lysa's voice was even softer this time. Catelyn was shocked out of her reverie.

"A punishment? What punishment? Who is being punished?"

"Lord Stannis," Lysa said. "Banished to the frozen wasteland of the North instead of being appointed lord of Storm's End. The youngest brother will have Storm's End now, a mere _child_."

"The North is not a frozen wasteland," Catelyn protested vehemently. It was Ned's home, and Brandon too. And Robb would rule over that land someday. Another thought struck her. "I suppose … marrying me is a punishment too?" A widow instead of a maiden. A woman raising the child of another man. How else would Stannis Baratheon see it except as a punishment?

Lysa looked horrified. "No, of course not. I never meant … and anyway, it is only the servants gossiping."

Catelyn sighed. "You must not encourage them, Lysa. You are the mistress of this household, you will not have their respect by being too familiar with them."

Lysa sulked. "I was only trying to be friendly. You will leave soon. Father too."

And Lysa would be left with her elderly husband, older than her own father. Catelyn was anxious for her sister. She smoothed over Lysa's hair with her fingers, like she often did when they were young. "You _will_ be happy, won't you, Lysa?"

Lysa looked like she was about to weep, her upper lip trembling and her eyes glistening. But the moment passed. She embraced Catelyn tightly and said, "Of course I will. King's Landing is wonderful! More than I could ever hope for." It did not escape Catelyn's notice that Lysa had not mentioned her husband. "And in any case, it's _you_ I'm worried about. The stories I've heard about Lord Stannis … they do not bode well, dearest sister," Lysa continued.

Catelyn thought of her sister's warning the next day as she made her way to the king's solar. "The king commands that you are to bring Lord Eddard's son with you, Lady Stark," the squire sent to fetch her had said.

_My son as well, _Catelyn thought_._ But Robert Baratheon would not see it that way, she knew. Ned was the one who mattered to the king, not Catelyn.

Robb was finally sound asleep after a long, restless night, and Catelyn was loathed to wake him. But she did not dare make the king wait, so she picked him up carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. Robb stayed asleep the whole journey from Tower of the Hand to the king's solar - even the noise of the men-at-arms practicing in the courtyard failed to wake him. But the king's voice berating his brother finally roused the babe.

"Seven hells, Stannis! Why do always have to defy me?"

Catelyn was trying to soothe Robb and stop his cries. The three men in the room – the king, his brother, and his Hand – had not noticed her presence as yet.

"I am not defying you," Stannis' voice was not as loud as his brother, but sounded just as angry. "Merely pointing out that so soon after spending a fortune on _your_ wedding, the crown could ill-afford to pay for _another_ lavish wedding."

"It's _your_ wedding. My brother. The king's brother," Robert replied, fury stamped all over his face.

"Exactly. _My_ wedding. And I do not want a lavish wedding, with wasteful spending," Stannis said, his jaw grinding from side to side.

"It is also Catelyn Stark's wedding. Ned's widow. I owe it to Ned to honor her," Robert said, his voice softer this time, with a melancholic edge.

"Lady Stark has been married before. She is not a maiden in need of a grand wedding," Stannis retorted disdainfully.

Jon Arryn cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should consult Lady Stark on the matter?" He said, his gaze directed to Catelyn, who was still standing near the door.

"Come in, come in!" Robert greeted her enthusiastically. His attention swiftly moved to Robb, still fussing in Catelyn's arms. Robert stared at the babe so intently Catelyn thought his eyes would bore holes in Robb. "May I?" He finally asked, holding out his arms. Catelyn hesitated, but noticed Jon Arryn nodding slightly through the corner of her eye. She passed Robb to Robert's waiting arms, staying close in case –

"I won't drop him. Don't worry," Robert said, laughing and winking at her. In that moment, he reminded Catelyn of Brandon, even though the two men looked nothing alike. But Robert's laugh swiftly turned to tears, as he spoke to Robb as if the babe could understand him. "Your father … he … he was the happiest man alive when he heard of your birth. _I can't wait to hold my son in my arms_, he told me. You must grow up knowing your father, child, and what a good man he was." Robert's voice broke. He sniffled, cleared his throat, and said, "He was the best brother any man could ever have."

Stannis was in Catelyn's sight, and she saw how his shoulders stiffened when Robert mentioned brother. But he turned his face away before Catelyn could see his expression. Robb started crying, and Robert quickly handed him back to Catelyn.

"We were arguing about the wedding," Robert said, after Catelyn had managed to soothe Robb.

"Discussing," Jon Arryn interjected.

Robert ignored him. "My brother seems to think the Great Sept of Baelor too grand for the occasion. Even a feast for six hundred guests is too much, according to Stannis. What say you, Lady Stark?"

Great Sept of Baelor? Six hundred guests? For a widow with child? Stannis probably thought it excessive. Catelyn replied, careful of her words, recalling all she had heard of Robert Baratheon. "I would defer to your good judgment, Your Grace."

Robert smiled. "No wonder Ned spoke so highly of you. Well, it's settled then," Robert announced.

Stannis was about to protest, when Jon Arryn interjected again. "The poor babe seems very sleepy. Perhaps you would escort Lady Stark and her son back to Tower of the Hand, Stannis?"

"The guards can do that," Stannis replied. "I have another important matter to discuss with Robert."

"The Others take your _important_ matter!" Robert exploded. "I have heard enough from you today."

Was the rumor true, after all? That it was meant as a punishment for Stannis? Catelyn's father had put in a more complimentary term - the need for a strong lord to rule Winterfell and the North until Robb comes of age – but watching the interaction between the Baratheon brothers had sown doubts in Catelyn's mind.

She stole a glance to the man walking next to her, who was staring straight ahead as if he was walking alone. _We are to be married, in less than a week_. And she did not know the first thing about him, except that he seemed furious. With his brother? With her? With the prospect of their marriage?

He coughed suddenly, a loud, hacking cough that shook his entire body.

"Have you been ill, my lord?" She asked solicitously.

"No," was his terse reply, and continued walking as if naught had happened.

Catelyn took in his hollow cheeks, his pale face, his gaunt frame and fleshless body, and finally remembered. _Of course. _The siege at Storm's End that had lasted almost a year. "_They were down to rat bones at one point,_" Ned had written her, on his way to Tower of Joy after he had lifted the siege.

_On his way to his death._ No, she would not think of that.

She should say something to Stannis, she thought. But what? _I'm sorry you and your people almost starved to death?_ All the words she could think of seemed trite and pointless, so in the end she said nothing.

Stannis was the one to speak. "I'm sorry for your loss." The words were blurted out as if he was trying to get rid of them as fast as possible. Catelyn turned to look at him, too surprised to reply.

"Thank you," she said, at last. He nodded stiffly and quickened his pace.


	2. Chapter 2

The last time Catelyn was wed, her sister Lysa was standing next to her, clad in the same trout-embroidered maiden cloak as Catelyn herself had been. Hoster Tully had removed the maiden cloaks from his two daughters - Catelyn first and then Lysa - with a satisfied smile on his face.

This time, Catelyn was alone. There was no maiden cloak for her father to remove; she was no longer a maiden. And the husband Lysa had wed at that double wedding was still alive, unlike Catelyn's husband.

Ned had looked somber and solemn at their wedding, but he had not looked irritated, the way Stannis was looking today. Catelyn had promised herself that she would not compare the two men. Certainly not out loud, and not even in her heart, where no one could hear her. That would be a surefire way of making a bad start of her marriage to Stannis, she knew. But Stannis Baratheon was not making it easy for her to keep that promise.

He was frowning as he waited for her to make her way to the altar. He scowled as the High Septon recited the vows, as if impatient for the wedding to be over. He was looking not at Catelyn, but at a point somewhere behind her head when he draped the bridal cloak embroidered with crowned stags over her.

"With this kiss I pledge my love." He said '_kiss_' in a tone so disgusted and '_love_' in a tone so skeptical that even the ever-so-dutiful Catelyn felt like rebelling. Deep down she was shouting - _I am worth something! You will be Lord Protector of the North because you married me. There are plenty of men who would be glad and grateful for that opportunity. _But Catelyn was Hoster Tully's oldest daughter and she was always mindful of her duty, so she smiled and pretended that she had not noticed anything amiss with Stannis' conduct.

His breath smelled of lemon, and his lips tasted salty; those were the only things Catelyn remembered about their kiss. It was over so quickly some of the guests gasped, and some even snickered. Catelyn recalled one of the stories Lysa had passed on to her – Lysa was making it her mission to collect any tidbits about Stannis Baratheon. "They say he doesn't drink at all, not wine, not beer, not any kind of spirit. He drinks only water. Water with a pinch of salt added, and sometimes lemon water," Lysa had told Catelyn.

Most of the guests at the wedding feast were unknown to Catelyn. Her father had not brought a large party with them from Riverrun, expecting the wedding to be only a small affair. She noticed quite a few Lannisters, clad in crimson and gold and their lion sigil. The queen's family. The queen's twin brother, splendid in his Kingsguard attire, was also present, his eyes almost never straying from his sister. Her father had had designs on him for Lysa, Catelyn recalled. But Jaime Lannister had chosen the Kingsguard instead.

The king seemed to be having a good time, laughing, trading jokes and clapping everyone's back. Perhaps too good a time, Catelyn thought later, as he grew progressively more and more drunk, his speech slurring, his laughter growing louder and louder, his jokes getting meaner and more obnoxious. Stannis was at the receiving end of most of the king's "jokes", some of them so lewd and bawdy Catelyn almost blushed. She glanced at her new husband to see how he was reacting. He was grinding his teeth so loudly Catelyn thought the entire hall must have heard him. But he bit his lower lip when he noticed Catelyn looking at him, and the teeth grinding ceased almost at once.

Not for the first time, she wondered how it was that Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark had been the best of friends. They seemed so different, so completely opposite in so many ways. Yet Robert's grief for Ned's death, as she saw it when Ned's son was presented to him, had seemed sincere and deep-seated. Even deeper than her own grief, Catelyn thought, feeling shameful.

_They grew up together, Robert and Ned. I never even met Ned until the day we were wed. _

As the king's voice grew louder and louder and more out of control, and Stannis' face grew redder and redder and more furious, Jon Arryn quickly stepped in before anything unfortunate could happen. "Perhaps it is time for you and Lady Baratheon to retire to your bedchamber, Stannis?"

Lady Baratheon. She would have to get used to that name now.

There was to be no bedding ceremony, no ritual stripping of the bride and the groom for them to be carried naked to their bedchamber. "Lady Stark is a mother, she deserves to be accorded more respect and dignity_,_" Jon Arryn had told the king. Stannis had agreed readily, and with more enthusiasm than Catelyn had ever seen from him; more for his own sake than for hers, Catelyn suspected. He did not seem like a man who would enjoy being stripped naked by various women and paraded without a stitch on while people shouted lewd and bawdy words around him.

The king had balked, at first. "Cersei and I had to go through it at our wedding, and we are the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Why should Stannis be exempted? Merely because he's the biggest prude in the realm?"

"It is for Lady Stark's sake," Jon Arryn insisted. "She is the mother of Eddard's only son, his heir."

The mention of Ned Stark had decided the matter for the king, who agreed without further protest.

But Catelyn was Lady Stark no longer. She was Lady Baratheon now, and her husband was calling for her.

"My lady," Stannis said stiffly, holding out his hand to his wife. To Catelyn's surprise, he was actually looking her in the eyes this time. She took his hand and stood up, and they walked out of the hall together, hand-in-hand. She was conscious of every pair of eyes in the hall watching them, her ears attuned to every whisper, every titter, every snicker. Stannis, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything, striding purposely like he was on an unstoppable mission.

It was only when they finally reached the door to the room that had been assigned as their bedchamber for the wedding night that he suddenly seemed to falter. He hesitated before opening the door, and his hand fumbled trying to turn the doorknob. Catelyn waited patiently, saying nothing. She was used to waiting.

Her mind was hard at work, however. Wondering, speculating. Could it be that he was actually … _nervous_? That first glimmer of human emotion other than anger and irritation from Stannis reassured Catelyn, in some small way. And it distracted Catelyn from her own anxiety and unease, at least for a little while.

_Stop it! You are not a blushing maiden. You have done this before_, she scolded her fretting self.

But that was with another man, an altogether gentler man, in a room that had been her own bedchamber since the day she had her first moon blood and the septa had told her father it was time for Catelyn to sleep in her own room, instead of sharing with Lysa. This room, the room she and Stannis were in now, was as strange to her as the man standing in front of her was. The bed was heavily scattered with rose petals, crimson red and pure white. Scented candles were burning on all four corners of the room. She could smell lavender, as well as a strong citrusy scent. It was sensory overload, too much to take in all at once.

Stannis was looking around the room with horror. He moved quickly to the bed, his hands picking up the rose petals one by one, crushing them in his palm before putting them inside a basket that he had emptied of its previous content – grapes, peaches, and a jar of honey. Catelyn stared at the fruits and the honey jar, now lying precariously on the side table, with complete amazement. Who had been responsible for decorating the room? Did they envision the bride and the groom spending their time _eating,_ tonight of all night?

Stannis was still patiently gathering up the rose petals, to Catelyn's surprise. She had half-expected him to sweep the petals off the bed in an impatient gesture to be rid of the offending items.

_No, that is not his way. He is careful and meticulous, even in his anger. _She was learning his way, bit by bit.

She walked to the other side of bed, opposite from where he was standing, and started picking up the rose petals too. The petals felt soft and very fragile in her hand, and she could not bear to crush them as Stannis was doing. Soon they had gathered every single petal. Wordlessly, he handed her the basket now filled to the brim with rose petals, as if he expected her to know what to do with it.

She was setting the basket down on the side table when she felt the room darkening. Stannis had blown out one candle, and was on his way to blow out another.

_Perhaps it will be easier, for both of us, if it is not so bright_, she thought. But when he was about to blow out the fourth and last candle, Catelyn was less certain. Surely complete darkness would not be helpful either? Especially since both of them were still fully dressed.

"Maybe we should leave one candle burning," she spoke up. "It will be too dark otherwise."

Stannis looked like he was about to argue, but Catelyn quickly added, "I am not used to sleeping in complete darkness. There is always a small candle burning in my room. I'm afraid I am not as brave as you are, my lord."

"Very well, my lady," Stannis replied curtly, and left the last candle burning. It seemed to take him forever to make his way from where that last candle was back to the bed. Catelyn was sitting at the foot of the bed, expecting Stannis to sit next to her. Instead, he sat as close to the bedpost as he could, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Catelyn.

She cursed her relief at the decision not to have the bedding ritual this time. It had been strange and uncomfortable, even frightening and humiliating, but at least it meant that she and Ned were already completely naked by the time they entered their wedding chamber. Catelyn and Ned had been as much strangers to each other as she and Stannis were, but somehow instinct, and perhaps nature, had taken over that night, and neither of them had hesitated for long. They made Robb the same night she had given Ned her maidenhood.

And there had been no long and awkward silences with Ned, the way there were with Stannis right now.

"We should undress. Yes, that's what we should do," Stannis muttered, almost as if he was talking to himself. But she heard him just fine.

"Yes, we should," Catelyn replied, trying to catch his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started undressing. Catelyn followed suit. As she was removing the last article of clothing, suddenly Catelyn began to feel ill at ease about a man seeing her naked body. She knew it had not been quite the same since giving birth to Robb. Her anxiety was further increased when she realized that Stannis, who had finished undressing before her, was staring at her. Not her face, or even her breasts, but further down.

It must be the stretch marks on her stomach he was so preoccupied with, Catelyn thought. Preoccupied, or perhaps even horrified, for his expression was hard to decipher. _That was for bringing another life into this world_, she wanted to tell him, feeling defensive. But why should she have to explain anything? He knew who he was marrying, a woman who had given birth, not a maiden in the first blush of womanhood.

But as his eyes continued staring, Catelyn finally realized that Stannis was looking further down than her stomach. She followed his gaze and -

_Oh._

And then everything clicked and started to make sense to Catelyn.

_He has never been intimate with a woman before._

She would not ask him if this was indeed the case, of course, not in a million years. Catelyn was taught by her mother to always let the men lead. She had always abided by that rule, until now. An exception had to be made this time, she sensed, or her marriage with Stannis would not start off on the right footing.

How to lead him without making him feel like he's being led - that was the problem. She was cracking her brain trying to think of something, when she realized that the awkward silence had gone on for too long. The fact that they were both now completely naked was somehow making the silence infinitely more awkward and uncomfortable.

"I must not be the young, comely maiden you deserve, my lord," she said, to break the silence.

Immediately _he_ was the one on the defensive. "I am not that shallow, my lady," he said, sounding almost offended. "And you _are_ young, not yet twenty."

_But not comely?_ She almost jested, to lessen the tension between them. But instinctively Catelyn knew that would have been the wrong thing to say. This was not a man who knew how to laugh at japes and jests.

He moved closer to where she was sitting, as if to prove a point. This time, he _was_ staring at the stretch marks on her stomach. Catelyn had to resist the urge to cover herself.

"Was it a difficult birth?" He asked her, after a while.

Catelyn was sighing deeply on the inside. Talking about the pain of childbirth was hardly the thing that would facilitate matters on their wedding night. But Stannis seemed genuinely curious. It was in fact the first time he had shown any real interest in her at all. So she gave him an honest answer.

"It was harder than I thought. Much harder," she told him. And Catelyn had thought it plenty hard, she who had seen her mother dying in childbirth, trying to give Hoster Tully another son. But watching was one thing, going through it herself was completely another. "It was all worth it in the end, hearing Robb's cries and holding him in my arms," she continued.

"That's what my mother said too," Stannis volunteered, the first time he had told Catelyn anything without her asking him a question first. Catelyn was so shocked at the sudden revelation she was speechless for a long time. "It was a difficult birth. Renly. She was in labor for three days," Stannis continued, without Catelyn prodding him for more. After that he must have felt as if he had said too much, for he abruptly turned his face away from her.

Catelyn tried another tack. "Should we try to get some sleep?" She asked Stannis.

"No!" He replied, swiftly and adamantly. He turned to face her once more. "It is our wedding night. We must … we must do our duty, no?"

_I'm doing my duty_, she told herself, as she took his hand without warning, and placed it on her midsection. He was startled, and stared at her as if asking, _What are you doing_? She smiled. _Trust me_, her eyes were telling him. Her hand guided his hand upwards, all the while her eyes never leaving his eyes. She stopped when his hand was finally touching her breast. There was an initial sharp intake of breath from him the moment his palm met her nipple, but miraculously, he seemed to know what to do just fine after that. Not instinctively, the way it was with Ned. Not from experience either, his touches and moves were too fumbling and uncertain for that. But as if he had diligently studied the steps from a book beforehand.

And yet, Catelyn thought, when she woke up the next morning, surely there was no book that could teach a man, or a woman, about that subject? Or was there?

Her husband was still sleeping, his arms crossed over his chest as if trying to ward off a blow from an invisible enemy. She looked at him now, _really_ looked at him for the first time, memorizing his features, the contours of his face, the tightly-drawn mouth, the perpetually frowning forehead, the thinning hair. A plain face, Lysa had said. Perhaps. Certainly plainer than his brother's. But his eyes had been almost hypnotic, when Catelyn was staring at them for what seemed like an eternity last night. She was trying to recall their exact shade of blue – sky blue? Or was it more like the sea? – when those eyes suddenly opened, gazing at her intently. Her cheeks reddened and Catelyn quickly turned her face away.

"You are not a maiden," he said. She was extremely confused. Had he been expecting that she _was_ one? Surely … surely he could not be _that_ naïve? It was not uncommon for wartime marriages to be unconsummated, but Robb was living proof that her marriage to Ned _had_ been consummated. And Stannis himself had asked Catelyn about giving birth just last night.

"No, I am not," she replied simply, not knowing what else to say. Her tone must have struck him as strange, for he immediately said, "I was not expecting you to be one, of course. I know that you are not. You are a widow, that was my point."

"My lord?" She still did not see what the point he was trying to make was.

"As a widow, you could have chosen a husband without having to ask for your father's approval or permission. So why agree to this marriage?" He asked her.

So he _was_ naïve, just not in the way she had previously thought. _I can't very well say no to the king, can I?_ She was not just _any_ widow, she was the widow of Ned Stark, who had been Lord of Winterfell and the king's closest companion. She was also the mother of the boy who would be Lord of Winterfell someday. She never had any choice in the matter. "I have a duty to my king," was all she told Stannis, however.

Stannis nodded. "And I have a duty to my brother," he said.

"Have you always done your duty?" She felt moved to ask him, all of a sudden. _Was marrying me a duty too?_

He grimaced, as if the question was causing him great pain. "Yes," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Haven't you?" He turned the question back to her.

"Of course," she replied, without any hesitation.

"Well, we both certainly did our duty last night," he said. It was only after he had dressed and left the room that she began to wonder. Had there been a slight smile on his face as he was saying those words? Or was that merely her imagination, or even worse, wishful thinking on her part?


	3. Chapter 3

A month's journey through the Kingsroad, Stannis calculated. That was how long it would take them to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell, if everything went smoothly and according to plan, which things seldom did, he knew from experience. He wondered about the child. Would he be able to withstand that long of a journey? Catelyn had taken the child with her from Riverrun to King's Landing, but that was a much shorter, and much less perilous journey.

Grand Maester Pycelle had declared Robb Stark a healthy babe and foreseen no danger in subjecting the child to a full month on the road. Stannis distrusted the maester - a Lannister creature if ever there was one - and insisted that Maester Cressen took a look at the child as well. Cressen had concurred with Pycelle's verdict, and the queen had shown her displeasure at Stannis' visible doubts about Pycelle.

Stannis had been furious when Robert had first given the order to go up North, but now it would be a great relief to leave King's Landing. The sight of Mace Tyrell sitting at the Small Council table as Master of Ships was the last straw for Stannis.

"Stannis." Catelyn's voice startled him from his bitter and heated contemplation.

"My lady," Stannis replied. He still could not bring himself to call her by her name. _Catelyn_. Or worse, _Cat_. Both names felt peculiar on his tongue, like a word in a foreign language he had never spoken before.

"Ser Davos is here to see you."

"Tell him to come in." He paused. "Are you prepared for our journey, my lady?"

She smiled. "I have finished packing, yes." The smiled faded. "I am not certain I am ready for our arrival, however," she continued, looking nervous.

That was unexpected. Catelyn had seemed sure of everything, from the moment he first set eyes on her.

"I have never been to Winterfell. I'm not sure how they will receive me there," Catelyn said.

"I don't suppose the northerners would be rolling out the welcome mat for the southern husband you are bringing home," Stannis replied.

Catelyn looked horrified. "That is not what I meant. I … I am a southerner as well, and …"

"Nevertheless, it _is_ true, is it not? About your new southern husband, to replace Ned Stark their beloved lord." He searched her face carefully.

"Yes," she nodded reluctantly.

"Well, we should both be prepared for a frosty reception at Winterfell then," Stannis said with a finality that was supposed to tell her that the conversation was over, and she should leave him to speak to Davos. Instead, she started laughing. He stared at her, incredulous.

"What?" He asked his wife. _Wife_. He had a wife now. He was a _husband_. How mortifyingly strange that was.

She wiped the grin off her face when she saw that he was not amused. "A frosty reception. I thought you were making a jape of some sort."

"A jape?" What did the woman take him for? "I do not waste my time on that sort of nonsense, my lady," he told her firmly. Her face fell. "Forgive me, for misunderstanding, Stannis."

Was he being too harsh? She had been very … understanding, that first night. "Let's forget it," he said stiffly now.

"Should I tell Ser Davos to come in?" Catelyn had moved on.

"Yes."

It was a relief to see the onion knight, an honest face amidst all the snakes and vipers prowling the city. He had only known the one-time smuggler for a short time, but his instinct told him the man could be trusted. For now, at least. He would have to be on guard as always, as he was with everyone else.

"How is your land, Ser Davos? And your family?" Davos had come from Cape Wrath, where he was settling in his family on his new land, the land granted with his knighthood.

"Very well, my lord. Marya and the boys wish me to express their gratitude to you," Davos replied.

"Yes, yes, of course." Stannis wondered what they thought of Davos' missing finger joints. His eyes wandered to the pouch the onion knight was wearing around his neck. Did Davos show his wife and sons the bones inside that pouch? Did he tell them of the man who brought the cleaver down on those fingers?

"And your wedding, my lord? Did everything go smoothly? I am sorry to have missed it." Davos' voice interrupted Stannis' wandering mind.

"You shouldn't be. Robert insisted on a grand ceremony and feast, with tiresome guests and tedious chatters," Stannis scoffed. "You should be glad to have missed it, ser."

When he was ridding the bed from the blasted rose petals on his wedding night, there _was_ a moment when Stannis _had_ wished for Davos' presence. The man had been married for years, with four sons of his own. He must know quite a few things about the relation between a husband and a wife. There were certain … _issues_ that books and written words could not truly be of much help.

"My lord?"

Stannis felt his face flushing red. Davos was looking at him as if he suspected what had been on Stannis' mind. _My blood would freeze before I would actually ask him, or anyone else, that question._

And in any case, there had been no need to ask anyone. Catelyn had shown him the way, without him having to ask. She did not lack experience either, the babe Robb Stark the living proof of that.

"We are leaving for Winterfell in three days," Stannis said abruptly.

Davos nodded. "I am ready to leave on your order, sire."

"Robert will be glad to be rid of me," Stannis muttered.

"I'm sure His Grace would miss your presence and your counsel, my lord."

"He will miss neither. Though with the snakes and vipers he's surrounding himself with, he would have done well to have his flesh and blood by his side. But no, it is all about Ned Stark. '_Ned's son must be protected, his inheritance must be safeguarded_,' Robert went on and on about that,"Stannis said bitterly.

"Lord Protector of the North is a great honor, and an even greater responsibility, sire," Davos reminded him.

"I don't care how big an honor it is!" Stannis exploded. "I never wanted it. I never asked for it. I only wanted what was mine. Storm's End should have been mine, not Renly's. That is the law."

Davos kept silent, waiting.

"But I will do my duty, just like I did when Robert ordered me to hold Storm's End at any cost. You came to our aid then, Ser Davos, with your onions and your salt fish. Will you do the same for me this time, but with your honest service and loyalty?"

"I am your man, sire. My sword is yours, now and forever. I will follow you wherever you lead, to Winterfell and beyond," Davos replied on bended knee.

Shouting. Catelyn had heard shouting and raises voices. No, _voice_, actually. It was only her husband's voice that had been raised in anger, not Ser Davos'. But surely Stannis was not shouting at Davos Seaworth of all people?

"My lady, I will take my leave now," Ser Davos said to her. "My wife wanted me to convey our best wishes to you, my lady, for your wedding."

Catelyn smiled. "Thank you, Ser Davos. And please convey my thanks to your lady wife as well. Are they here in King's Landing, your wife and sons?"

"No, my lady, they are staying in Cape Wrath at the moment," Davos replied, looking a bit troubled.

Catelyn hesitated. "Then … they will not be coming with us to Winterfell?"

Davos demurred. "No, my lady. Our land is in Cape Wrath. It is only a small keep, but someone has to keep an eye on it. And I could not bear to separate the boys from Marya, not when they are so young still."

"It must be hard, being so far away from your family."

"Aye, but I serve at Lord Stannis' pleasure. And Marya and our boys are used to long separations by now. When I was a smuggler, I was gone for months at a time." Davos spoke of his past without any shame, pride or bitterness. It was just the way things were, he seemed to be saying.

Catelyn found herself staring at the pouch hanging on Davos' neck. She knew what was inside the pouch; Lysa had told her _that_ gossip about Stannis' onion knight as well. "Why do you keep them, Ser Davos?" She asked him softly.

He knew without asking what she was referring to. "To remind me of Lord Stannis' justice," he replied, kindly but firmly.

"I heard that he did the deed himself." The servant who had passed that piece of news to Lysa used that as proof of Stannis' bloodthirst and violence.

"Aye, my lady. It was what I asked of him," Davos replied.

Catelyn was surprised. This part of the story had not reached her before. "You did?"

"Aye, I did. I told Lord Stannis I would only submit to the punishment if he was the one to swing the cleaver himself."

"Why?" Catelyn asked. Davos looked surprised, as if no one had ever asked him that question before. Surely Stannis had asked him the reason at the time? "Is it … a Northern thing?"

"The man who passed the punishment should swing the sword. Aye, I have heard of that," Davos nodded. "I am a Flea Bottom man myself, born and raised, but that northern practice has always made sense to me. If you have other people to swing the sword for you, you might find it too easy to pass judgment on others, to punish with reckless disregard for human life."

Catelyn nodded. This man would be a valuable ally for her and Stannis in the North. She was glad that he was coming with them to Winterfell, very glad indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

Bidding farewell to her sister Lysa turned out to be the hardest thing for Catelyn. Lysa wept and would not let Catelyn go from her tight embrace. "Jon is taking me to the Eyrie and leaving me there. The Eyrie needs its Lady while the Lord is away, he said. Oh Cat! What am I going to do in that strange place?" Lysa whispered as Catelyn hugged her for the last time.

Catelyn said whatever feeble words of comfort and reassurance she could give to her sister. She could hardly blame Lysa for looking entirely unconvinced and uncomforted; Catelyn herself found her own words shamefully wanting. She glanced at Lord Arryn, who was deep in conversation with Stannis, both of them looking grave and solemn. "_Lysa would be happier at King's Landing_," she imagined telling her sister's husband. "_I beg you, my lord, for my sister's sake," _she imagined pleading with him, this man who did not look cruel, who in fact looked almost kind.

But kind or not, Lord Arryn was still a lord husband. Lysa's husband. "_We women belong to our husbands when we marry. It is our duty to make a home for them, and for our children. A warm and comforting home._" Her mother had taught her that from an early age. Catelyn had taken that lesson to heart. When her mother died and Hoster Tully did not seem inclined to marry again, Catelyn had taken over her mother's duties at Riverrrun without any complaint or reservation.

No, that was not entirely true. She had plenty of reservation, hesitation and doubt, but none she had ever voiced to anyone else. Catelyn kept her doubts to herself, always.

It was not her place to disagree with Lord Arryn about where Lysa's place should be, just as it was not her place to disagree with her own husband. Her mother had taught her that; Mother who was always warm, kind and loving, and wanted only the best for her children. How could Mother be wrong? She couldn't be, Catelyn reasoned.

"It will be fine, you'll see," Catelyn whispered to Lysa. "You will be a splendid Lady of the Eyrie, and make Jon a warm and comforting home."

Much later, when Catelyn had found her voice and finally realized that doing your duty did not necessarily preclude speaking out for yourself and for your loved ones, as well as speaking out for what was right and just, she would regret not speaking out on her sister's behalf that day. Perhaps she could have saved Lysa from a lot of heartache and misery.

"When will I see you again, Stannis?" It was a little boy's voice, sulking and complaining, but strangely, also sounding demanding and authoritative at the same time. Renly Baratheon was younger than Catelyn's own brother Edmure, but he looked like a boy who was used to getting his own way, who _expected_ to get his way, in fact.

_He is the Lord of Storm's End_, Catelyn thought. Her brother Edmure was heir to Riverrun, but Catelyn could not imagine Edmure ever speaking to his father or his sisters for that matter in that tone of voice.

"I don't know," Stannis replied brusquely to his little brother.

"Will you visit me at Storm's End on my nameday?" Renly was asking Stannis, his eyes as big as saucers. He was still a little boy after all, Catelyn reminded herself. A little boy whose brother was leaving him to go to a land far, far away. Catelyn smiled at Renly. He stared at her for a long while, before smiling back. "Maybe Catelyn and her son would like to see Storm's End. Would you like that, Catelyn?" Renly asked, smiling shyly.

"I would love –" Catelyn started replying, but Stannis interrupted her. "_Lady_ Catelyn, Renly. And going to Winterfell is not like taking a trip to the market. It would take more than two months to go from Winterfell to Storm's End and back again. Lady Catelyn and I are not going to Winterfell for a holiday. We have important tasks to do. There is no time to be gallivanting to Storm's End for a nameday celebration."

"But it is _my_ nameday!" Renly cried out. "You've never missed my nameday. Robert has missed plenty, but not you, Stannis."

Stannis looked away. "Things are different now. Very different. You best learn that, Renly," he said, his eyes avoiding his brother and his wife.

Renly started crying. Edmure had cried too, when Catelyn and Lysa were leaving, but only when he thought he was alone and no one could see him. It took every ounce of self-control in her body to prevent Catelyn from running to her brother and embracing him, but somehow she managed to restrain herself. Edmure would not have liked it, Catelyn knew. He would have found it humiliating to be found crying by his sister.

Maester Cressen took the crying boy in his arms and tried to soothe him. Renly's shoulders were still hitching up and down, and the tears were still rolling down his cheeks. Catelyn noticed the maester giving a meaningful glance to Stannis, nodding his head vehemently a few times. Stannis seemed determined to ignore the maester at first, shaking his head and frowning, but the maester's insistence must have worn him out, finally. He walked closer to his little brother, knelt down so his face was level with Renly's head and called out his name. Renly turned to look at him at once.

"You must listen to Maester Cressen from now on. Will you promise me that?"

Renly nodded. "I always listen to him," he said, his tone almost peevish.

Stannis groaned. "No, you always _say_ that you will, but then do things as you like. That will not be good enough from now on. You are the Lord of Storm's End, not a silly, sulking little boy."

Renly looked down, refusing to meet his brother's eyes. "Are you mad at me about Storm's End? Is that why you are going far, far away and leaving me behind?" He muttered under his breath.

Catelyn did not miss the sound of her husband's teeth grinding loudly. She imagined the entire Red Keep hearing it as well. Stannis stood up, sighed, and said," No, Renly, it's not _you_ I'm angry at. Going to Winterfell is Robert's command, and therefore my duty."

"Everything is ready, my lord," the sound of Ser Davos' voice was a relief to Catelyn.

Stannis turned to Catelyn and asked, "My lady, are you ready to leave?"

She was not ready, would never be ready in a hundred years. But they both had their duty to do, and Catelyn was not one to shirk her duty, no matter how terrifying she found the prospect. "I am, my lord," she replied to her husband with a smile. Stannis escorted her to the carriage, where the nurse was already waiting inside with Robb. Catelyn took the baby from her, and scooted to the other side of the carriage to make room for Stannis.

"I will ride with Ser Davos," Stannis said stiffly. Catelyn was startled, but managed to hide it. "Very well, my lord," she replied. A crying child was perhaps not the best travel companion, Catelyn reasoned with herself. Robb was not a difficult or fussy babe, but who knew how the long journey might affect him. And Stannis probably had many, many things to discuss with Ser Davos before their arrival at Winterfell, Catelyn added another thing to the list of reasons why her husband would not want to ride in the same carriage as her and her son.

She kept adding more and more things to the list, until _finally_ she had the courage to admit to herself what she feared the most deep down – that Stannis resented having to be a father to another man's child. And not just _any_ man, but Ned Stark. Ned Stark whom the king had often proclaimed as his favorite and most-loved brother, above and beyond his trueborn brothers. How would she feel, were she in Stannis' position? _I would still love that child, for he is innocent of any wrongdoing_, she tried to convince herself. But she wondered. She truly wondered if that was really possible, to separate and compartmentalize your feelings about the wrong done to you, and your feelings for the child.

If that indeed turned out to be the case, she would have to make it up to Robb, she vowed. Somehow, someway, she must find a way to protect him from Stannis' resentment. She kissed her son's forehead, and secretly breathed a sigh of relief that Robb looked more like a Tully than a Stark.

And was immediately stricken with feelings of guilt and remorse towards Robb's dead father.


End file.
